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"Quit snappin' that lash. 'Pears-like ter me ez ye makes yerself powerful free round this hyar tanyard." "Tennie air a-growin' wonderful fast," the sly Nathan remarked pleasantly. Birt softened instantly. "She air a haffen inch higher 'n she war las' March, 'cordin' ter the mark on the door," he declared, pridefully. "She ain't pretty, I know, but she air powerful peart."
"Whyn't ye eat some o' the squir'l, Birt?" his mother asked at the supper table. "Pears-like ter me ez it air cooked toler'ble tasty." Birt could not eat. He soon rose from the table and resumed his chair by the window, and for half an hour no word passed between them. The thunder seemed to roll on the very roof of the cabin, and it trembled beneath the heavy fall of the rain.
"'Pears-like it takes the whole fambly to do it." Such slothful mismanagement was calculated to affront an energetic spirit. Obviously, at this hour the woman should be at home cooking the supper. "I follered along ter listen ter the fiddle, ef ye hev enny call ter know." Mrs. Bedell replied to his unspoken thought, as if by divination.
Ter hear ye a-jowin', a-body would think I had never shot nothin' likelier'n a yaller-hammer sence I been born. S'pos'n ye jes' takes ter goin' a-huntin', an' skinnin' deer, an' cuttin' wood, an' doin' my work ginerally. Pears-like ye think ye knows mo' 'bout'n my work'n I does. An' I'll bide hyar at the house." Mrs. Griggs nodded her head capably, in nowise dismayed.
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